Daughter of A Furyan
by Xavi Leonard
Summary: Caron is a young woman who has been given mission of finding the most wanted man in the universe, her father Riddick. To save her brothers and sisters she will have to search where no one else has, and keep him from being caught. Simple right? No pressure
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Its name is Hellion. It is my understanding that the name is a corruption of some ancient word and its meaning. It means trouble. Such naming conventions seem to create self-fulfilling prophecies. Such a name also seems testament to the human capacity for humor. Here both the star and the planet bear this name. The star Hellion is a white dwarf burning slowly in this quiet and unremarkable corner of the galaxy. Hellion, the planet is a world of brown and blue and does many things, but shine it does not. This is a place of ancient things, well….ancient by human standards. This city here is old enough that it has consumed itself many times and been rebuilt on its bones in a persistent cycle of decay and renewal. This place is voracious and it consumes with an appetite that has grown over ages. All cities feed on their inhabitants to a greater or lesser extent. This city is no different. The city is old enough to know itself. It is a world of high wonders. In many places its boulevards are wide and beautiful, as are its buildings; made from stone mined from the north of the city. However the harder living is done away from the sight of the fortunate few who live and wander it's beautiful walkways. In the shadowy places, windswept and forlorn, there is desperate existence. This is the fate of the majority on Hellion. Much of what is beautiful depends on that which is not in order to survive. Like beautiful tapestries held up by rusty nails, covering a decaying wall. A huge writhing organism, this city is many things, it is vast, it is old, and it is cold and unforgiving; unless you know the right people. The right people being those who make your life easier or longer, perhaps both if you are particularly fortunate. There are non-humans here too…but if they are here, they avoid unnecessary attention and it's certain they have good reason to be here.

Humans are difficult with which to coexist. It's been observed that humans are naturally xenophobic. Something in their design makes most of them view different species with disdain, fear or hate; it has been speculated that it is perhaps a type of ancient reflex that fights for the continuance of the species. It is by far their worst trait. But that is only one side. They don't appear to care for one another very much either, yet there are no other species that are more social than humans. They appear to need one another for comfort. This is but one of the many strange dichotomies that characterize human behavior. Humans are also insatiably curious. This is perhaps their best trait. Of course that is one elemental's perspective. Ah…yes I have been remiss. You know nothing of me. Well I am a non-human. An Elemental. A silly name certainly. They did ask us what we called ourselves, but it was perfunctory; they immediately renamed us to their liking. We would have been offended if we were not beyond such things. But I digress, I was telling you about the city. The city was named Amarante thousands of years ago. The city stretches for many kilometers in all directions on the face of Hellion and it teems with life. There are more than a billion people in this city. Most are desperately trying to survive. Hellion has two cities, Orléans is the other. It too has a certain personality that is inimical to survival. There are some…a fortunate few who can thrive here. They are mostly Furyans and there are only a very few of those. Of course that's all a universe needs.

Caron, walked down the middle of the deserted street with a loose hipped swagger, her head up, hands out and swinging easy. Her boots echoed off the walls of the man-made canyons. There was a gusting wind blowing the dust and debris that the city seemed to make without end. It was just dusk, not that it mattered. At the street level it was always dark with only the temperature changing. Hot when Hellion's star was up, cold when Hellion's star went down, but the darkening sky far above was beginning to crackle with the fiery red of Hellion's aurora; 'skyfire' as the locals called it. The buildings here in this sector were tall with black resin veneers peeling away in places due to age. They were the height of architectural wonder back when some long dead official decided that revitalization meant towers. They didn't mean anything now; just a place to live, if you were lucky. Of course living here was not lucky. The sector was known as Purgatory by the locals, Sector 29 by officials and law enforcement, not that they ever came here. It was dangerous here at the best of times. It was beyond lethal when there were food shortages; recently the food shortages had become uncomfortably frequent. During those times being alone was not so good. There were many here who were not so discriminating regarding what food graced their table nor were they particular about who or what constituted food. No one dared to venture on this street after dark. Those who did were known to be exceptionally dangerous; Caron numbered among that select few.

She could see the shadowy figures flitting just out of sight, watching her. She was _fairly _certain knew she wouldn't be attacked, though it was sometimes hard to say with the hungry. She didn't look like prey so they gave her a wide berth. She gave a small smirk as one actually stepped out, making herself visible for a second before melding with the shadows again. She could feel her heart thumping, she craved a fight. She could almost taste the metallic tang in the back of her throat, could feel the rush just on the edges. Still, she had a meeting to get to; no time for games.

She turned down a dead-end side street. There were whirlwinds of debris spinning about in the corners. She walked up to the only door, a large black door with intricate silver carvings of skulls adorning the entire surface. The door-knocker was a macabre caricature of a skull; she reached out and grabbed the mandible, picked it up and let it drop. It swung back down striking the door with a dull thump, returning to it the rictus as she found it. She sighed…she hated the showy pretension. A pulse cannon would work better she thought. Still she had some appreciation of subtlety. Here in this place, this is what passes for subtle.

The door comms light came on. "What?" said an angry gravelly voice.

Caron rolled her eyes, shifted her stance slightly and bit out, "It's me." She could feel her impatience rise, she did her best to tamp it down again. "Here we go." She thought. "Time to dance." She could hear the locks whirring as the tumblers fell into the place and the bolts disengaged. She could feel the vibrations through the ground; the door slid soundlessly open.

The chamber she stepped into had another door four meters ahead. She could feel the door shut behind her. The chamber was three meters wide, four tall and well lit with unadorned gray stone walls. "Ah." She thought, looking up. "There's the pulse cannon." The cannon was on a turret. She looked up directly above her. She could see the other turret positioned to create a perfect kill zone.

"Stand in the middle of the room." The angry voice demanded.

She walked to the center of the room, where the light was even brighter, and waited on the scan.

She felt the room vibrate then a slight increase in gravity as the room rose the many floors into the upper reaches of the tower. She felt the room/lift slow then smoothly stop. For a moment there was nothing, no sound. There was a deep clunking noise from ahead of her of the door engaging. The door in front of her opened. It was dark beyond the doorway. She could feel her annoyance building again. Her night vision was gone, just as they intended.

"Move it, mignon!" Came the harsh command.

She walked slowly into the windowless antechamber, feeling a bit exposed despite the kinetic armor and the various weapons strapped on her body. When she was standing just inside the door she heard it slide shut behind her. She could tell there were several people in the room with her and while her eyes were adjusting rapidly, it was still not rapid enough for her comfort.

"We need to search you." Someone said out of the gloom.

"Fine, let's get this over with." She growled. She felt hands move swiftly over her lean, form. They were swiftly withdrawn.

"You know the rules. You have to disarm if you want to go any further. It's either that or leave." Came the angry voice again.

She sighed; slowly she took her pulse pistols from both hips and laid them gently on the ground in front of her. She pulled her mini-blades from both shoulder holsters and placed them on either side of each pistols. She pulled the combat blade from her left boot and placed it above the pistols, unwrapped the monofilament garrote from her right wrist and put it on the ground directly in front of her, removed the wire bomb from her left earlobe and placed it on the ground next to the garrote and finally reached up and pulled the long pin/knife from her hair, letting her black curls tumble down onto her shoulders. She stood up, to be greeted by dead silence. She smiled faintly, "Sorry boys, it's a fetish. I like things that hurt...other people?" She shrugged as if it was something beyond her power.

The searcher came back. "What's your business with Montrose?" He said nervously. He approached warily side-stepping the weapons on the ground to pat her down again.

Her voice was low and husky in the enclosed space. "I'm looking for my father. I need Montrose's help. He is expecting me." She said in a bored business like tone. By now she could see them clearly.

Caron watched and waited. The room was perfectly silent. Her eyes scanned the arc of the seven men in the small antechamber. They stayed with their backs to the wall, hands near their weapons. It was too warm and she could smell them. She could smell the fear, anxiety and sweat. All but the tallest of them assumed postures of studied indifference while following her every move. The tallest, in a deflection vest, watched her carefully. They carried an assortment of assault rifles, mass rifles, pulse pistols, one had a heavy thermal cannon carried with the help of exoskeletal stabilizer. She was confused. She was expecting many things, but not to be detained by bounty hunters and mercs in a dirty, badly lit antechamber. She chided herself, "Always expect the unexpected. Only the stupid ones come straight at you." she thought. Evidently the bravest of them was the tall swarthy man in a deflection vest, which he activated before stepping up to her. He stepped directly in front of her and quickly and efficiently searched her again. His hands glided over her skintight armor. Experimentally he tapped the armor here and there feeling as it went from supple to rigid, confirming his suspicion that she was indeed wearing kinetic armor. She stared directly into his black eyes during his thorough search. He unexpectedly moved one had behind her and pulled her favorite blade from its sheath. He placed in on top of her other weapons. She smiled tautly but gave no ground. Her lithe body tightened slightly in anticipation. He was a full head and a half taller than her, his lean muscular form battle hardened by one or more of the many wars that followed in the wake of the Necromongers. She cocked her head assessing him, once a soldier, but now a bounty hunter…maybe merc? Maybe the leader?

"We have been instructed to tell you that Montrose will help you." He paused, "For a price." His voice was deep and raspy but surprisingly educated, former officer maybe? She reassessed him; he didn't smell of kettle weed like the others. He maintained a respectful distance. Distance within which to move if necessary. She reordered her threat priority.

She changed her stance slightly, a movement not missed by her observers. "I brought money, lots of it. All I need is information; and a guide. Beyond that I can't imagine that I have anything Montrose could possibly want." The officer stepped closer. She spread her hands as she moved her arms out to sides of her body…a position that usually signified surrender. Anyone who ever fought her father knew otherwise. He froze staring into her eyes, his black into her green…an almost imperceptible shake of negation. She relaxed slightly. He wasn't threatening her…exactly. He moved closer and put his mouth close to her ear.

"I love you." He whispered. He quickly stepped back among the others. His face was impassive. Almost mask like. The others hadn't heard. He jerked his head in the direction of the door. She remained frozen to the spot. Staring at him…something was there…chewing at her…she knew him, but she couldn't quite figure it yet.

When she didn't move the others started getting restless. "Come jeune fille, move!" The one closest to the door said. She glanced away from the officer to the speaker, white on pale, in armor that was very old but well cared for. He was holding a pulse rifle. An albino, he seemed almost luminescent. His white hair on his pale features made him nearly shine. She also recognized the voice. He was the angry one. The scowl on his face matched his tone. She dropped her arms to her sides, let out a short laugh and calmly walked to the door which opened when she stepped to it. She entered slowly struck by the ornate luxury.

As she stepped through the doorway, the memory hit like a spike in her mind. Gabriel. A little boy and a little girl playing in the corridors outside her mother's chambers when the coup attempt started, that was the day he told her with perfect seriousness and sincerity that he loved her. She laughed, then it happened. She never saw him again after that; her friend Gabriel: the pretty little boy with the black eyes. Never again, until now. "Damn." She whispered with feeling. She didn't want to remember. Not now. Was he a friend or enemy? She didn't know.

She turned to look; she could see the man with the piercing gaze watching her intently as the door shut.

She was brought back to the present by quiet laughter. The room was arresting in its opulence. The vaulted ceiling rose 8 meters above her head. The room was richly appointed in warm tones of browns, tans, red and orange with occasional accents of copper, bronze and gold. "Damn." This time louder, still with feeling. The couches and large floor cushions were also patterned with custom upholstery in red, copper, brown and gold. They were arrayed around the center of the room which contained a huge woven carpet of brown, gold, and red. What shocked her was that this still managed to be tasteful. The walls were lined with recessed shelves with objects from Montrose's many travels. The lighting was understated casting dramatic shadows upward onto the ceiling along the borders of the room. Across the room she could see a darkened corridor that went to his private rooms. The rest of the room was cast in gentle light that was probably meant to be soothing, but just made her tense.

"Problem Cher?" Her gaze drifted over the room's décor settling on the man who at the moment was sitting on the steps that led onto the balcony. His feet were bare, his legs encased in a deep iridescent blue. He was a study in elegant relaxation. He was drinking wine. Caron occasionally found it hard to square the man in front of her with the man she knew, the dangerous head of the infamous Fraternité des Retrievers; a band deadly of bounty hunters. Of course the close fitting pants and open shirt did nothing to hide the corded musculature. A tiger lying still is no less dangerous than this man. "Perhaps you would like some wine. I just opened a bottle? It's very good." he offered.

"No Montrose, I'm fine, just been a long day and I'm tired of your games. Why turn your dogs on me? You already knew I was coming and why." She ground between her teeth.

He regarded her impassively with a steady golden eyed gaze. Eventually he gave a half smile, and stood fluidly. He turned and walked up the steps which led out to the balcony. "Cher, I had to make sure they took your weapons _before_ your visit with me." He paused meaningfully, "You can be a bit…impulsive."

She could hear the smile in his voice and she felt her anger evaporate. She couldn't blame him for something she would have done herself.

"Come out here, join me on the balcony. There is a wonderful breeze and the sky fire is burning brightly tonight."

She sighed…he was going to drag this out. "I saw it outside." She said flatly, following him out to the balcony. She glanced at the recessed retractable blast walls. They spanned the entire 10 meter span of the black tiled balcony, able to protect the broad floor to ceiling polarized windows. She found him lounging indolently in a cushioned chair, in a corner decorated in a variety of beautiful non-native plants; an oasis in a desert. She stopped, folding her arms across her chest. "By the way, you should keep the tall dark one. He's good. He actually found my black blade." She didn't sit.

He smiled. "Oui, he was a good hire, smart too." The aurora cast a reddish gold glow over everything.

"I'm glad, I want you to give him to me for this job." She gazed at him steadily, ignoring the coruscating colors radiating in the sky. The colors in the sky played across his lean features, his blond hair lit like fire. She watched the impassive expression disappear. His expression hardened. It was curious; she watched him become angry, and yet maintain control enough to keep his body fluid and relaxed. Prepared to move in any direction, even here with her; always ready for combat; never letting his guard down.

"Non, Cher. You and your father are lethal for business. Apart from losses in personnel, if anyone even suspects that I might have any idea where to find your papa, I will have the council's so-called Guardians breathing my air and taking up my space. Non, ma petit. I did my job and you are alive. Ask no more of me!" He stood; his former good humor a memory. "Mon Dieu! I wish I had told them not to let you in!" He glared at her then looked back out at the sky in disgust, his fun ruined; he flung the remainder of his wine over the railing. He stalked past her back into the living room, muttering to himself, slipping in and out of french.

She spun around following him into the room. "You are alive because of my father! I have never asked anything of you! Do this one thing for me and I'll never ask anything else of you again!"

"Never ask anything of me?" He stared at her incredulous. "Pour bite souci! Comment, dans l'enfer do you think you survived long enough living here pour m'inquiètent maintenant by your will alone? Non!" He was trembling with anger. He closed his eyes, visibly calming himself. He spoke very quietly. "You will get yourself killed looking for him. Then what good would my promise to your father be? People have been looking for him for years and no one has found him." He gazed at her with quiet intensity. "He does not want to be found Caron. Leave this be."

She felt bad pushing Montrose this way, particularly since she had been avoiding him for months. "I can't let it go Montrose. I'm sorry. Please do this for me." She said looking at the floor. She could feel his gaze on her, looking for a way in, for an opening anywhere.

"Stay with me." He whispered. "I can keep you safe." She didn't speak, didn't move. She glanced up at him, but couldn't hold his gaze. For a long moment nothing was said and neither of them moved.

Growling in exasperation; "Merde, merde, merde, Fine! If you want to die, I won't stop you. I'm sick of…" He stopped abruptly, paused and took a deep breath. For a moment he said nothing, gathering himself. "When do you plan on leaving?" His expression was easy, emotions locked away again. He was doing business now.

She exhaled. His moody darkness made her nervous. This was a Montrose she could understand. "As soon as possible."

"You brought money?" He asked, moving to his console, picking up his pictogrammer as he went. He connected the keypad to the console. He started typing. She handed him the datastore. He took it without looking away from the console, though it wouldn't have mattered, his eyes could see nothing but data when his internal data comms was active. The pictogrammer or picto as he called it vastly accelerated the transfer of information making it possible to multitask at a level far beyond normal human constraints. They were profoundly illegal outside the hands of law enforcement and certain government agencies. That he would have one should not have been surprising, yet this was impressive even by Montrose's standards. He told her long ago when he was training her that the dataflow was limited by the hardware. She suspected he hacked his data comms allowing him to manipulate greater quantities of data. She could see volumes of information streaming across the screen faster than her eye could follow. "Sit. This will take a while. I can't promise there will be much left after. There are a many bribes."

"I know." She said quietly and took a seat, waiting. The better part of an hour passed before he finally looked up, clear lines of strain on his face. She didn't understand the internal connection he had to the console, only that it gave him a clear advantage, otherwise he wouldn't have it.

"D'accord, it's done." He murmured. He rubbed his temples. "You have an orbital pass waiting for you and Ange." He held the datastore out to her. She could see his eyes were blood shot. He looked tired, clenching his jaw reflexively.

She looked up in confusion. "Ange?"

"The good one, you pointed out and demanded? He goes by Ange." She gazed at him, her expression bemused.

"Ok then, Ange." She stood up heading for the door. She wanted to get out of here. Her feelings for Montrose were complicated and NOT something for examination. The longer she was around him the more twisty and strange they got around each other. Neither of them quite knew what they were supposed to be to each other. It made dealing with each other exhausting and if she was honest, painful. She closed down that line of thinking. "No good can come of that." She thought.

"Caron?" His voice was low and measured. She could hear the fatigue in his voice. She paused, but didn't turn around.

"Don't get him killed. I had a bitch of a time finding him. Make sure _you_ bring him back." She smiled, but didn't look back.

"I will." She keyed the door and stepped into the antechamber. Ange was leaning against the wall. He was alone. He had changed clothes while she was with Montrose. He looked at her with a steady gaze, the datapad vanished somewhere in the tunic he was now wearing. He pushed away from the wall, waiting and ready to move.

"You're with me." She said as the door shut behind her.

"I am." He said, no expression, just the deep brooding look. He reached down pick up his gear bag. He turned and walked out of the antechamber onto the lift. She picked up her own gear, now stowed in a bag, and followed him into the lift.

Ange (angel)

Comment, dans l'enfer (how in the hell)

D'accord (okay)

jeune fille (young girl)

m'inquientent maintenant (to trouble me)

Merde (Shit)

Mignon ( pretty)

Mon Dieu (My God)

Pour bite souci! (For fucks sake!)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Montrose wandered back out onto the balcony, and stared out at the endless skyline of the city he hated, and loved. The sky fire cast Amarante in a beautiful golden glow; travellers from other worlds were unimpressed with this world's aurora or its other charms, but he remained fascinated, even after he had seen so much. Its buildings long neglected with age were losing their facades in bits and pieces; bearing their skeletons, but not their secrets. It's skyline now irregular from being constantly rebuilt on its own ruins.

"I don't think this is right." Montrose ran his hands up and down his face trying to discharge the tension. "This can go wrong so many ways."

"What would you have me do, Montrose?" She said coldly. "I am suffering a dearth of options and I am out of time. All parents use their children one way or another…"

"...if they're sociopaths." Montrose interjected heatedly.

She paused for a moment "This is hardly anything new. I gain no pleasure from this. If I am to save my all my children I have to potentially sacrifice one." Her face was mask-like in that it conveyed no emotion.

"The blowback from this will be unimaginable." He ground out. He dropped his head into his hands and sighed deeply. "You keep underestimating her." He murmured.

She stared at him through the comms with a look that shifted to calculating. "I suggest you do more to control your bias for my daughter and remember that you have been employed to perform a function. I suggest you confine yourself to those duties. I wouldn't want you to lose perspective." She spat. "Do your job bounty hunter...and make sure you dispatch Mr. Holister. She may need...motivation."

He glanced up sharply, "I haven't employed Holister for some time now…he has a penchant for recreational cruelty. Besides I understand he has taken on a partner more twisted than he is." He said with obvious distaste.

"Yes, I am aware of his various frailties, yet he is exactly what we need here. We need someone who will be able to provide the necessary…motivation" She said with clinical detachment.

Montrose looked up quickly, she was looking slightly past the comms at some point beyond the unit in her office. Montrose quickly made a couple of observations; first this gave him some insight into the layout of her office. She would never allow him entrance into her office and he was getting curious. Second and more importantly, that was the third time he'd heard her repeat herself using redundant language. Each time she seemed to…"fade out" lost in thought. That could be useful he thought. "He is exactly what _you_ need, Cher. You want him, fine I'll be sure to tell him for whom he works, but don't involve me with that sadist." he said watching her closely.

She refocused her attention back to Montrose who had schooled his features to appear merely attentive. She frowned slightly, and then said with casual indifference, "Oh, by the way, I don't suppose you have received a comms from Eurydice?"

Montrose felt his chest contract, but shifted his features to show no outward sign of his distress. "How is Eurydice?" He asked calmly as if he was asking about the weather.

She smiled ruefully, "She is alive." She said and cut the comms.

The screen switched off. Montrose sat in the near dark illuminated by the glow of the sky fire staring at the blank screen. He felt himself start to breathe again in little shuddering breaths…She was alive that's all that counts, he thought. Alive. He forced himself to breathe easy and compartmentalize. He had no choice, he had to stay in control and do what she wanted until an opportunity presented itself. He reached for his glass of wine, sat back and took a sip. He closed his eyes and let the dry, fruity flavor spread over his tongue, shutting out all other distractions. There was fire in his chest, his eyes snapped open. Red orange light spilled over everything as if his soul was pouring into the room. The sky fire seemed to burn across everything. As if the whole of Amarante was howling with him. He could feel the hate pulsing in his chest, writhing like a tentacled beast, twisting his guts spreading infecting every fiber of his being. He wanted her dead…no…no he wanted her to suffer. He would get his Eurydice back before they had a chance to turn her into an asset. He would make certain that Clarissa suffered extraordinary pain. He walked across the room his steps muffled by the thick carpet, and activated the comms to call Holister. "Fine, I'll play your game, Clarissa…" He smiled coldly. "…for now."

Poole. He knew the name but beyond that he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. Paul was tired, sweaty and increasingly in a bad mood. He had blood running down the back of his leg from the gash in his right ass cheek but it had turned clotted and crusty with all the sand. He looked nervously behind him again. He saw little animals scurrying around him some at his feet. He stomped around in circles scaring some of the creatures that scuttled away on ten legs, the rest appeared…interested. He quickly started moving, deciding that maybe he should be a moving target. He looked ahead and back. All he could see was yet another sand dune. They went on and on behind him. He had lost sight of the crash site hours ago. He couldn't shake it. He knew someone was out there somewhere looking for him. "Who the fucking hell are these bastards?" the thought. "And who the hell do they think they are that they could hunt ME! Paul Randal" He smoothed is hopelessly wrinkled suit. "I'm the director of Deagan Mining Corp." He fumed to himself with indignation. He checked again to make sure he had his heavy pistol and the data vault. The weight of the pistol was at once a soothing presence, but it was also heavy enough to piss him off. Everything weighs more the longer you had to carry it in the desert. It also weighed more because the gravity on this world was 20% greater than galactic standard. Paul climbed up an embankment of sandy brown, rocky hard scrabble, hating this world more with each painful step. His ass itched and he was pretty sure something was crawling around under his suit moving toward the wound on his ass. He stopped at once and beat the area around the wound causing himself to let out a startled yelp, when he got too close to his injury. He wasn't sure it helped. Now his skin was crawling all over. He half-sobbed then started walking again. Once at the top he surveyed his situation his panic rising. He was pretty sure this was payback for every evil he had visited upon his fellow man. He sobbed, but no tears came to his eyes. The desert was turning him into a husk already "No please, please, please…not like this. Please no, not like this." He could see more of the creatures, he could see they were following him. "Fuck you!" He shouted at them. "Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!" He screamed at them until his voice cracked. He walked in the shifting sand another 5 meters and came to the edge of a cliff. It plunged down a hundred meters to the canyon floor with nothing but sheer rock face between the top and bottom. It was huge crack in the crust of Poole that was a kilometer wide here and stretched for hundreds of kilometers in either direction. Eddard's Star is an orange-yellow ball of misery. It is a curious fact that if a human has a choice they will tend to choose poorly…it's just in their nature. Or so it was the opinion of Paul. He should have known better than trust those criminals. He knew they were up to something. He hadn't even heard of the planet to which they were taking him for the drop off. Then they crash landed here. At least the damn navigation console told them where they were before they crashed. Wonderful. So here he was now on some world called Poole alone. This is a desert planet with plenty of water _underground_ and the nickname of Eightball; as in behind the eightball. Not good. This systems star was sitting low on the horizon; it was putting on quite a show the sky rapidly changing colors providing a brilliant spectacle to any who were inclined to watch. Paul looked down at the cracked datapad in his hand. He didn't remember pulling it out. He wasn't sure why it still worked, but he was glad it did. "Oh shit!" he mumbled through lips already cracking from the sweltering late evening heat. He did not like what the datapad was telling him now. It was telling him he was about to die. Sunset was dangerous in deserts in general. On desert planets it was deadly to be without shelter and he had nothing. Poole's rotation was pretty fast compared to galactic standard. With Poole's planetary rotation period of .75 galactic standard, Eddard's Star would be setting soon. It was going to get cold, very cold very fast. Drenched in sweat Paul began to get a sense of his situation. He wouldn't die from the heat. The cold what was coming in mere minutes was going to finish him off. Paul turned around again and looked back the way he came. He had no choice…he had to go back. Toward the crash site that was sure to have got the attention and whoever was following him, but it was shelter, better than nothing.

Holister grinned evilly; he really had no words to describe his joy. It was so intense it was visceral and frankly hard for others to watch. It was far too reminiscent of watching someone in the middle of something very private. There was nothing he enjoyed more than the hunt except maybe the moment when his prey knew it was hopeless. That was actually better, but so short-lived as to diminish is overall enjoyment. But the chase… the hunt, that was better than whores, drugs, or whiskey. "Hell" he thought, "it might be better than whores AND drugs AND whiskey all together." He reached down and adjusted himself without conscious thought, then glanced at his prey. The man didn't stand a chance. He was the only survivor of the five who were on the ship, if you could call such a little thing a ship. They crashed hard. They weren't prepared for the nasty winds in this planets upper atmosphere. They got thrown down like a toy. He glanced over at his silent companion, Tully. Tully was deep in concentration focused on the target though the binoculars. His grin got bigger. Tully glanced at him from the corner of his eye then back to the target. A strong gust of wind stirred the sand across the dunes sending curling ribbons of sand into the wind as the dunes began to shift like water.

"What I tell ya? Huh? Huh? Cheap navigation systems will all ways bite ya in the ass…" He nudged Tully with is sand-colored booted foot.

Tully ignored his compatriots' comment staring through his binoculars. He was keeping a careful eye on the range finder on the bottom of the internal display that showed the distance between himself and the target; the _target_ not prey. He didn't pretend to understand Holister, but then again he had matters of his own which needed his attention. Everything was going according to plan. He just ensured that the work was steady and the pay was good. As long as Holister was useful, and he kept his more objectionable habits under control or at least out of sight he found he really didn't care. Still this was becoming very dull. "Is there a reason we are allowing him to wander the length and width of the desert instead of just taking him and leaving?" Tully looked at Holister coolly.

Holister snorted a laugh. "Hell yes! Look at him." He said, putting his own binoculars to his eyes which like Tully's were covered by antiglare lenses. "He is a fucking mess. If we wait just a bit longer and let the planet soften him up a bit more we can just walk over there bag him, throw him in the cargo hold and go. And we won't have to fire a single shot. See? Simple." He looked back at Tully, smiling a toothy grin, smug in his logic.

Tully nodded, "Your logic is sound though I fear if we allow the planet to "soften" him up much more he will be a corpse. There is all the matter of sunset.

Holister stared at him blankly.

Tully looked back at him waiting for him to connect the dots, but when he didn't continued evenly. "When sunset comes this planets temperature will drop precipitously, and the temperature differential between the light and dark sides will generate winds. Holister continued to stare. Tully sighed, calmly turned his head back to his binoculars said somewhat conversationally, "Hurricane force winds."

Holister flinched like he had been slapped. "Hurricane force winds?" Holister stuttered. Holister stared at him for a beat before the reality of the situation hit. They were half a klick away from the rover and 5 clicks from the town. "You fucking psycho!" He yelled, scrambling to his feet then looking around for his stun rifle.

Paul startled violently as there was a small explosion of sand and cursing coming from no more than 50 meters away. He would have hid, but he was on the side of the sand dune just about to crest and they were slightly above him. There was no place to hide. He also realized that there was something in his pants, but it didn't matter now.

Tully calmly stood with his pulse rifle. Took aim and fired, catching their target with a slow discharge that frazzled his nervous system sending him twitching face down in the sand 50 meters from where they were hiding just over the edge of the next dune.

Holister was still cursing, frantically searching for the rifle he had accidentally kicked into the sand when he stood. He snapped his head up when he heard the stun rifle go off. He watched as Tully calmly slung his stun rifle over his shoulder, and simultaneously stowed the binoculars with his left hand while pulling the wrist restraints out of his jacket pocket with his right. He strode calmly to the twitching man lying face down in the sand.

"You knew?" He yelled, yanking his rifle out of the sand and shaking it vigorously. "You twisted son-of-a-bitch! Just because you have a death wish doesn't mean I have one!" He said stalking after Tully. Tully by this time had the man by the arm holding him up partially waiting with a bored expression on his face, completely unfazed by Holisters outburst. Holister grabbed the other arm and half carried, half dragged him to the rover as the cold winds from Poole's dark side began to blow.

"You could have waited to shoot him 'til he was closer!" Holister yelled. The sand was being blown everywhere in the cold gusting wind.

Tully hoisted the unconscious man a little higher, hooking his arm more securely under his arm and sped his pace. Holister kept pace without further comment and to avoid getting sand in his mouth. He steered them past the rock outcropping that concealed the rover and turned them so that they approached it from the back.

Once they were partially shielded from the wind by the rover he spoke. "It wouldn't have mattered. He had no reason to come with us. He knows he is dead in any case. Either we return him to Leland who will kill him or we kill him trying to do so or he dies out here. I know if I were him, I wouldn't have made life easier for my captors. Additionally, he was armed and he was reaching for his pistol when you began yelling like a damn fool."

"I wouldn't have been yelling if you had told me about the damn, hurri-fucking-cane force winds!" He screamed. The wind was now strong enough that his hair was wildly blowing and his loose pants and jacket were plastered to his body from the wind. Tully unburdened any hair at all appeared merely uncomfortable. They unceremoniously dumped Paul into the back of the rover, closed the hatch then ran around to the sides and climbed in as the wind began to blow in earnest. They shut the doors and the wind suddenly muted. Holister turned to Tully who was in the driver's seat. "I really, really, really hate when you do that! And I really, really want to shoot you in the face." The wind was howling eerily accelerated by the outcropping.

Tully smiled, "I'm sure you do, but I have told you before that if you insist on taking jobs you should do your research to minimize risks." Tully smiling was chilling. It looked unnatural on him because his face didn't seem to wrinkle and fold in the right places. It was made worse by the fact that when he wasn't smiling or frowning neither of which he did frequently. His face was as unnaturally smooth as marble with no hair or eyebrows mar its perfection and absolutely nothing, no emotion whatsoever ever reached his eyes. It was if here were already dead.

Holister subtly withdrew as much as the confined space would allow. He couldn't help it, he would never admit it, but Tully was probably the scariest person he had ever met. The contracts were good, some of them coming from places that were so dark and deep that he didn't want to know what they were about. Types of jobs that he had never gotten before and never imagined anyone would need done.

Paul was starting to come around and was struggling against the wrist restraints. Tully engaged the rover driving them back towards the mining town. They continued for another kilometer before the man began to yell and scream. Holister despite his discomfort with his associate loved it, reveling in the man's helplessness. Paul seeing Holister's deranged smile became even more panicked.

They were nearly back to mining town where they would be re-launching when Tully stopped. He frowned.

Holister looked at Tully, curiosity, and nerves warred and were evenly matched. "Wha…what's going on? Why are we stopping?"

Tully turned around in the seat and looked at Paul and considered him through the window in the cab that allowed them to look into the back of the rover; his expression typically blank. "If I'm not mistaken our mission is specifically the return of the data which he stole from the lab. The data contained in the data vault strapped to his wrist?" Tully gazed at Paul dispassionately then turned to Holister. "We should simplify this situation as he will invariably bring unwanted attention and he demonstrates a propensity for irrational behavior. Yes. There is a simple solution." He smiled.

Holister glanced at the man. Even in the dim light of the rover it was possible to see the man had gone ashen. "He can hear everything we say up here?" Holister said, looking back at Tully.

Tully still looking at Paul replied, "I turned on the mic in the cab."

Holister was at once impressed and excited.

"P p p please? I, I can get you credits…or…something….please don't do this…I….I…" Paul stammered. He felt with cold certainty this was the end for him. He couldn't help the tears that streamed down his face. He wasn't ready to die…this wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

Tully gazed at the begging man for a moment his expression empty of anything resembling pity. "Shh! No…no Paul, you know that is not possible. And you know we have a job to do. I would merely ask you to give us the data vault, but we both know you can't do that since it's bonded to your arm. These things work so much better when they are secret don't they?" He smiled again in his best attempt at a comforting simile, then began to look past the man at the various pieces of gear in the rover. He turned to Holister who was silently watching the exchange between Tully and Paul. He looked back at Paul with a long measuring look and said without taking his eyes off Paul, "Holister, we will need a few items; the tarp, the machete…hm…oh yes…and a gag."

Holister furnished the items requested and waited outside the rover while Tully "acquired" the data vault. Holister shuddered. He had his limits. A little fear, or a lot. Roughing them up a little or a lot. Shooting them a little or a lot. All that was fine but this…this was something else. And while he knew he was a twisted fucker himself but he had his limits. He stuck his hands in his pockets glad the wind wasn't so bad now. He walked away a bit from the rover that was rocking violently as the doomed man completely panicked. He tried to ignore the shrieks and the meaty sound of the machete. The wind had calmed, but not enough to drown out the noises. The sounds kept going long after the man stopped shrieking. "Where is a hurri-fucking-cane when you need one?"

Holister stood propped against one of the awning supports of the only bar in this miserable town watching sober people walk in and those same people walk out later drunk. He had been standing there for the last several hours thinking hard. He had a major problem in the form of Tully and he was pretty sure that it was not going to be as easy to solve as he would have liked. Firing Tully didn't exactly work since they were technically partners. That and he got the feeling Tully might kill him. He reached down and scratched himself. He was pretty sure he was beginning smell like alcohol. He didn't care. He suddenly had a very clear realization. He was in too deep this time. He didn't know who Tully was working for or why they were interested in him, but he couldn't get out. He pulled out his comms again and stared at the message from Montrose. It had come in yesterday a simple enough job. Tully had the same come up on his comms. Tully seemed very… pleased. Holister was beginning to hate it when he was pleased. There was room for just one sick bastard in any relationship and this one had one too many. Tully accepted the job for them. They were leaving for Hellion soon; too soon as far as he was concerned. He looked at the image of the prey on the screen. "Hm…she's pretty. She might be fun", he thought.


End file.
